((Here is the Skiing prompt from a fabulous anon. I hope you enjoy it! I will post the other prompts hopefully by tomorrow))
“I don’t like this.”
“We aren’t even at the top of the hill, Sherlock,” Molly frowned at the grousing detective who had his arms crossed firmly and was wearing a rather childlike pout. “If you sink down any lower in the lift, you’ll fall out.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Molly. There is clearly a safety bar keeping me from doing so.” Sherlock scowled.
“I have absolutely no idea why you agreed to come to this family gathering,” Molly shook her head. “You don’t like social outings, you detest my extended family, and apparently, you don’t like skiing.”
“I prefer having full mobility of my feet,” Sherlock grumbled, referring to the skis strapped to his feet. “These…things prevent me from running.”
“That’s because they’re meant for skiing.”
“I know they’re meant for skiing!” Sherlock snapped.
Molly smiled patiently. It was rather hard to take her husband seriously when he was bundled up in several layers and a snow suit.
“Skis up,” Molly reminded Sherlock before lifting the safety bar and sliding from the seat and on to the hill. She let herself glide a bit farther, stopping herself at the edge of the hill in order to admire the view.
Molly always found the mountains at the ski resort quite beautiful. She had come to this ski resort ever since she was a little girl. It was her late father who had taught her the art of skiing as well as the art of falling. The first year after his death, she had visited the mountains, finding solace in the peaceful and beautif—
“OW! Sherlock, what the hell!?”
Sherlock had managed to run straight into Molly, nearly knocking her off balance and down the hill.
“I was simply allowing gravity to its course of action.” Sherlock shrugged noncommittally as he tried to steady himself.
“Of course you were,” Molly said, amused. She looped her arm through his, giving him a chance to regain his balance knowing that he would never accept direct help. Once steadied, she glided over to where the other skiers were eagerly pushing themselves down the steep hill.
“You know what to do, right Sherlock?” Molly asked as she slid her goggles over her eyes.
“Of course I do!” Sherlock said defensively. He glanced down the hill briefly. He scoffed, “It’s just physics, Molly.”
“Right…just physics,” Molly repeated. “Whatever you say, Sherlock.”
The two of them stood at the top of the hill silently, both looking down the slope as others skied joyfully past them. Molly’s fingers twitched eagerly on her ski poles, but she didn’t want to leave Sherlock by himself as she was not quite certain whether or not the man knew what he was doing.
“You’re itching to go, Molly. Why don’t you go first? I’ll follow.” Sherlock offered one of his rare, charming smiles. Molly raised an eyebrow. She never saw that smile unless Sherlock wanted access to the morgue. Yep. Definitely didn’t know what he was doing.
“Molly, you haven’t visited this slope in five years perhaps? You’re obviously a seasoned skier, probably came up here every year with…your father, was it? This is one of the places you feel most connected to him and there’s no doubt th-”
“Alright, Sherlock, I’ll go!” Molly cut his deduction short, not in the mood. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she added as an after thought,
“Of course I know what I’m doing. Why wouldn’t I? Preposterous…” She heard her husband mutter under his breath, though the way his eyes kept glaring at the slope told a different story.
She guided herself to the edge of the slope and readjusted her grip on the poles. Molly prayed that she still knew what she was doing after five hears of not skiing. She bent her knees slightly before pushing off down the hill.
Molly quickly forgot about her worries. The wind whistled loudly as she sped quickly and adeptly down the slope. Her hair flew out behind her as the cold nipped at her cheeks and nose, but she did not mind one bit. Oh, how she had missed the thrill of charging downhill as full speed. She pushed herself faster, even leaning from one side to another in order to pass other skiers. She pointed the tips of her skis together as she neared the bottom of the slope, before coming to a perfect stop.
Nope, she had not lost one bit of her skiing knowledge. She made a mental note to visit the expert hill with her brothers later knowing Sherlock would be fully against it. Speaking of which, where was Sherlock?
“Sherlock?” she called out uselessly.
Molly pushed her goggles on to her head and scanned the slope for any sign of the detective. She squinted as she tried to see who was at the top of the hill. Unfortunately, there was no Sherlock to be found.
“He probably just took the chair lift down,” Molly muttered to herself. She was only starting to push herself towards the chair lift when she noticed a black mass hurtling down the slope and—
Molly quickly undid her skis and ran to the large snow bank into which her husband had so elegantly plowed into. She had to stifle her laughter when she saw the Sherlock-shaped indent in the snow bank.
“Sherlock? Are you….are you okay?” Molly managed to ask between giggles.
“Mm gmmd ouu imphh hishh unny” came Sherlock’s reply from within the snow bank.
She quickly reached into the snow bank to pull Sherlock out. The detective stumbled clumsily out of the snowdrift, managing to trip on the skis and fall face forward into the snow once more.
Molly involuntarily let out an amused snort.
“Sherlock…” Molly knelt down in the snow and calmly undid the man’s skis bereaving him the chance of harming himself any more.
“I’m glad you find funny,” Sherlock said sardonically, once restored to his former dignity. He shivered slightly as the snow had succeeded in burrowing itself into his snow suit.
“I do,” Molly grinned reaching up to pick out the chunks of snow that had decided to form in his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t know how to ski?”
“Well, Molly, I-” Sherlock started to defend himself.
“Never mind that. Doesn’t matter.” Molly waved it off, sparing him any more humiliation. “I know a lovely little coffee shop down in the small town. I’m sure someone interesting is bound to show up. In a small town like this, it’s certain that someone has some dark secret.”
Sherlock gave her a withering look to which Molly merely gave him a small smile before pecking him lightly on the cheek. His cold, hard glare softened under her warm and loving gaze. He narrowed his eyes slightly. It was dangerous how much power she held over him.
“The ski lift operator has two children in America that her husband doesn’t know about. The rental man is also carrying on an affair with the daughter of the owner of this resort who, coincidentally, spends a lot of time gambling his money away despite the fact that he has to pay to put his daughter through Uni. Did you know that, Molly? No, of course you didn’t.”
Molly contentedly slipped her hand into his and agreed, “Of course not.”